Thou! whom Prosperity has always led O'er level paths, with moss and flow'rets strewn; For whom she still prepares a downy bed With roses scatter'd, and to thorns unknown, Wilt thou yet murmur at a mis-placed leaf? think, ere thy irritable nerves repine, How many, born with feelings keen as thine, Taste all the sad vicissitudes of grief; How many steep in tears their scanty bread; Or, lost to reason, Sorrow's victims! rave: How many know not where to lay their head; While some are driven by anguish to the grave! Think; nor impatient at a feather's weight, Mar the uncommon blessings of thy fate! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOD SAVE THE NATION! by THEODORE TILTON THE FORD OF TRANSFIGURATION by WILLIAM ROSE BENET TO A YOUNG MOTHER by HELEN DARBY BERNING PSALM 84 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE LAST REVELATION by WINIFRED ADAMS BURR |